


Your Obedient Servant

by writtenFIRES



Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: Demons, Hamilton References, Sexual Tension, Slurs, Song Parody, Threats of Violence, honestly, mostly its just dark bitching and mark taking none of his shit, nothing actually happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-27 18:48:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10039388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writtenFIRES/pseuds/writtenFIRES
Summary: “How does Markiplier, an arrogant, flippant, overdone, bastard, whoreson somehow persist with his success, on a pedestal?”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo... guess who may or may not have arrived two years late to the Hamilton fandom with no coffee? :D Haha well, it is awesome, but really it was this [animatic](http://h-otokichan.tumblr.com/post/157423113310/youve-kept-me-from-the-room-where-it-happens) by [h-otokichan](http://h-otokichan.tumblr.com) on Tumblr for [“Your Obedient Servant”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z1NmdB_kXO8) that got me to wanting to write something for it...
> 
> With Darkiplier and Markiplier, because it’s just quite fitting, don’t you think so?
> 
> This is really just for fun, so it might not be my best writing, but maybe you’ll enjoy it? I’ll be posting Part Two either tomorrow or Friday. That’s where the real fun is. :)

Dark watched as Mark bid goodnight to his friends, got Chica settled into her cage and readied for bed. He watched it all from the shadows encapsulating Mark’s mind’s eye with a silent fury that persisted to grow and grow with each passing second. He wondered if Mark could feel it- if he could sense the burning flames of rejection and suppression behind his eyeballs. If he acknowledged or was concerned about the dull ache pressing at the edges of his temples; fuzzy black fingers on his consciousness. If he did, he failed to show it, collapsing into bed with his usual smile and nary a care in the world.

Dark hated it. Dark _loathed_ Mark for it and for everything Mark stood for; what he was. What he’d _done._ Still seething behind a mask of chiseled stone, Dark turned away from his host’s mind’s eye.

_“How does Markiplier, an arrogant, flippant, overdone, bastard, whoreson somehow persist with his success, on a pedestal?”_ Dark stared down at his hand, too pale and incorporeal, clenching it into a fist. _“Something he’s despised since the beginning, still he keeps me from winning.”_ Shaking off the burst of irritation, Dark attempted to push his bangs up out of his face. Mark parted his hair the opposite way, so perhaps if he just…

The scruffy, dark strands fell right back into his eyes, and Dark cursed under his breath. “Oh, _come on._ ” Scowling and roiling with a barely suppressed rage, Dark turned back to the window he used to view Mark’s daily life. With Mark asleep, there was little to see, but the barrier there was more malleable than ever. Silently, he took a breath he didn’t need.

_“I wanna be in the room where it happens, the room where it happens, the room where it happens…”_ Dark stalked to the expanse of clarity, pausing a few inches from its surface. He stared out at a world he technically wasn’t made for and likely could never occupy. Not with his current obstacle. _“You’ve kept me from the room where it happens…”_ Dark’s crimson eyes narrowed, and he pressed forward.

 

**_“...for the last time….”_ **


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Dear Markiplier...."_

Mark gave a ragged gasp as he abruptly sat up; brown eyes wide and mouth agape. Immediately, he recognized the fact he was no longer in his bedroom and began to wildly look around. “What-” There was nothing but darkness pressing in on him from all sides, and instantly he was put on-edge. Swallowing hard, Mark slowly pushed himself up onto his feet and brushed himself down. His movements had shifted to something more cautious as he attempted to find any clue indicating where he might be and how he’d gotten there. “...hello?”

_“Dear Markiplier…”_

Mark startled and jumped at the sudden voice, which seemed to reverberate from all around him rather than originating from a specific direction. Sucking in a quiet, nervous breath, tension filtered rapidly back into his muscles. He wanted to ask who was there, where they were, but the voice carried on without paying any mind to his anxieties.

_“I am slow to anger, but I toe the line as I reckon with the effects of your life on mine. I look back on where I failed and in every place I checked, the only common thread has been your disrespect.”_

As the voice sang, Mark realized he recognized it. Not with the usual familiarity, but because the voice was his own. Several octaves deeper, rougher around the edges with an echoing tone but still, at its core, _his._ He felt goosebumps prickling at his skin and moved to hug himself while a gnawing sensation started up at the back of his brain. He had a sinking feeling about just who this might be.

_“Now you call me ‘amoral’; a ‘dangerous disgrace’. If you’ve got something to say name a time and place- face to face.”_

Abruptly, a figure appeared before Mark and he screamed out of reflex; throwing himself back. Burning red eyes stared into his own as the shadowy gentleman crooked his head to the side, a smile playing at his white lips. Mark’s breath caught in his throat as he registered his own face looking back at him with a clear cut sense of mirth and smugness. Pale lips parted to spill out more words, as Dark’s foot slid back and threw his body into a mocking bow.

_“I have the honor to be, your obedient servant… Darkiplier.”_

Mark sputtered, trying to wrap his brain around just what was going on, but it was hardly his first stare down with his darker half. Or, so he referred to Dark, even if he knew the man was an entirely different entity who had decided to reside within Mark’s consciousness for whatever reason. He knew what Dark wanted, he knew Dark must be furious to drag Mark into the confines of his own mind and he knew he wasn’t about to stand there and take the shade’s misplaced grief.

Straightening from his hunched position, Mark rolled his shoulders back and cracked his neck. Hardened brown eyes met the red of his counterpart and Mark picked up the all too familiar verse as if it were an old friend. _“Dear Darkiplier…”_ The demon scowled at the fact Mark was choosing to fight back, but Mark stubbornly continued.

_“I am not the reason no one trusts you. No one knows your true feelings. I will not take the fall for all your shortcomings. You are a malevolent being. Even if I said what you think I said, you would need to cite a more specific grievance. Need I pull out receipts on all of our silly disagreements?”_

_“Damn bastard.”_

Mark smirked triumphantly at Dark’s venomous growl, not missing a beat. _“Hey, I have not been shy. I am just a guy in the public eye trying to do my best for all the people. I don’t wanna fight, but I won’t apologize for doing what’s right.”_ It was Mark’s turn to give a mocking little chuckle, dipping into an exaggerated bow of his own. _“I have the honor to be, your obedient servant… Markiplier.”_

Dark, furious with Mark’s gall, burst forth with a renewed vigor. _“Careful how you proceed, human. Intemperate indeed, human. Answer for the accusations I lay at your feet or prepare to bleed,_ ** _human._** _”_ The demon snarled with a barely bridled rage as he got into Mark’s face. His red eyes practically seemed to burn in their deep sockets as they peered into Mark’s soul.

It wasn’t their first stand-off. Mark was shaken, but not shattered. _“Dark, your grievance is your own proud fault. I stand by what I said, every bit of it. You stand only for yourself, it’s what you do. I won’t apologize because it’s true.”_ Mark thought he understood, now. Dark was upset about the things Mark had claimed of him during his latest charity livestream. How he’d spun Dark to be a manipulator. Well too bad. His- _their-_ fans deserved to know the truth.

Dark, not having lost an ounce of his rage, nonetheless leaned back with a suddenly cooled expression. He continued to stare Mark down as if he were nothing more than insignificant insect; a fly buzzing obnoxiously in his face. Folding his hands behind his back, the burning of his eyes had lessened to more of a smoldering ember. _“Then stand, Markiplier. Weehawken. Dawn. Guns. Drawn.”_ He wasn’t referring to the weapons, and they both knew it.

Mark’s brown eyes narrowed. He straightened his spine, threw his shoulders back; anything to match Dark inch for inch. _“You’re on.”_

As Mark felt the tug and pull of reality dragging him back to consciousness, he joined Dark in a mutual condescending mutter of, _“I have the honor to be, your obedient servant…”_

 _“Markiplier.”_ He disappeared from his mindscape, waking up in his bed. Peering at the glowing numbers of his bedside clock, he realized it was only two in the morning and sighed. There was time… or had it all just been a dream? The echo at the back of his mind said otherwise.

**_“Darkiplier.”_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it. X'D Sorry if you were expecting an actual fight or anything. This was literally my entire mental image for the inspiration I got. Just a little song and metaphorical tango between the two. What does Dark plan on doing at dawn? Why isn't Mark more concerned? Who's to say?? Come up with your own theories. I'd love to hear them. 83


End file.
